


cherry wine

by sunflower_8



Series: and the day that we watch the death of the sun [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Despair Era (Dangan Ronpa), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Instability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Esteem Issues, Trauma, idk how 2 tag, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:21:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24475681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/pseuds/sunflower_8
Summary: kamukura knows that, with enough insistence and force in his voice, servant will submit to anything. it is not a trait he finds particularly beneficial in a general sense. however, it is useful in times such as these where he has to gather information from servant. it is not manipulation, necessarily.(he would not care if it was, either.would he?)(or, kamukura witnesses servant despairing.)
Relationships: Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Series: and the day that we watch the death of the sun [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767859
Comments: 14
Kudos: 182
Collections: Bookless





	cherry wine

it does not take much skill to locate servant.

at any given moment, he is likely either in the kitchen with peeling paint, the bloodstained streets outside their temporary residence, or their freshly tidied bedroom. kamukura hardly has to think to know that he is currently sitting on their bed, but he still allows himself a few moments (to pretend, to mimic inadequacy, he is not certain and he does not care) before he attempts to find him.

when he does so, the house creaks under his feet. the buildings they find these days are dilapidated at best, occasionally missing windows or roofs. it is fine, typically. they make do. when it rains, they cover themselves with sheets. when it is freezing, they huddle closely. when it is hot and scorching, they strip and keep quiet about their dehydration. it is not a bother that this house is like this, but there is still something about the echoed footsteps and broken floorboards that remind kamukura of yearning.

he is filled with intellectual thought. he is also filled with silly, ridiculous, pretentious thought. 

he indulges in both equally.

he pushes the door open with a single tap, watching it swing slowly as he stares at servant, sitting on the bed exactly as he predicted. ordinarily, he would immediately shift to greet kamukura with a bright smile. however, he does not move at all, his gaze directed at the floor. his despondency provides an answer as to why kamukura has not spoken to him in a few hours. 

further investigation yields this: eyebrows furrowed on a downcast face, eyes aching and sad, hair brushing the tip of his nose. breaths escape from his lips, shallow and hurried, and it identifies that servant is having some variation of a flashback or panic attack, though he is too mellow for the latter; this could have occurred earlier, then. his hands are shaking in his lap, his shoulders trembling as well, and he views servant’s face again to affirm that it looks as if he has been crying.

he does not cry very often. that is true. however, memories of  _ her  _ are likely to consume him like this.

kamukura leans against the wall, debating before deciding against kneeling in front of the other. with an even, apathetic voice, he calls out, “servant.” servant does not move. he does not even twitch. with an exhale of breath, kamukura carefully steps forward, sitting beside the other while keeping a respectful distance (as if respect can be found in a place like this) and repeats, “servant.  _ komaeda. _ ”

servant jars to reality seconds later, appearing dazed. before kamukura can say a word, his eyes widen almost comically-- kamukura does not feel like mocking-- and he tenses. silently, he slides until his knees are on the floor, head bowed as he stares at the ground. quietly, shamefully, he chokes out, “i’m sorry, sir,” tears absent from his stormy eyes the color of turbulent mercury but endlessly apparent in his voice. he expected nothing less.

kamukura sighs, reaching down and holding the chain in his hand. cold. hard. unpleasant. he is not quite fond of the collar. he supposes it may prove to be an endearing quality that will grow on him. now, however, he does not care for it. “what is the purpose of this, komaeda? is this for yourself or me?”

“you,” he instantly replies in a rushed breath. “always. i serve you, yet i failed to hear you beckon me, so i must be punished.” his voice and body are frail. his condition has made a broken doll of him; kamukura dislikes the thought. “i’m so sorry, sir. do what you like to me.”

“hm.” is all he says. servant’s breath appears to stop until it does not, his chest heaving as he persists in kneeling. kamukura thinks for a few moments before deciding to place his fingers in servant’s delicate hair. he lets out a sigh, almost a  _ whine,  _ at the gentle contact _.  _ it’s painfully evident that he truly expects kamukura to tug him up, to pull his hair and hurt him. instead, he allows his hand to slip to servant’s cheek, prompting him to look up with incredulous eyes. kamukura extends his kindness to let servant’s temple to rest against his thigh, and servant  _ breathes _ . he speaks again, disrupting the quiet by stating apathetically, “you are suffering.”

servant does not attempt to deny it through gesture, but his eyes flutter shut. that is enough confirmation by itself (not that kamukura particularly required confirmation, as his statement was not conjecture and he does not hazard guesses). despite both of them knowing better, servant still attempts to feebly hide from him. “i’m fine, sir.” he mumbles.

“you are lying.” after a beat, he adds, “we both dislike liars. it is futile to attempt to deceive me. what is concerning you?”

servant slumps. he buries his face against the other’s leg, shielding his expression from kamukura. for a moment, he acts as if he will not speak, but he then says, predictably, “it’s nothing to worry you about. they’re minor things.”

“still, i would like to have knowledge of them.” kamukura knows that, with enough insistence and force in his voice, servant will submit to anything. it is not a trait he finds particularly beneficial in a general sense. however, it is useful in times such as these where he has to gather information from servant. it is not manipulation, necessarily.

(he would not care if it was, either.

would he?)

servant inhales a shaky breath before he makes his confession, and kamukura waits patiently. finally, he whispers, “i’m despairing, sir. i-i can’t breathe or think or  _ live _ , and i can’t stop fixating about matters i’m sure you would find trivial, memories of the past that repeatedly come to me, ripping and tearing into my head, and i’m remembering  _ her  _ and all that came before and-” he cuts himself off preemptively, his voice more vacant as he says, “that is all, really. haha.”

“is that so.” it lacks the lilt to be a question. his hand slides down to his neck, resting at his collar. there will likely be bruises left on his throat. he notes, idly, that if he applied the slightest bit of pressure, he could choke the other. he refrains. “are you not infatuated with hope?”

“i am, sir.” he suddenly grasps the bottom of kamukura’s shirt, looking up at him desperately. his eyes are teary, bleak-- there is a base fascination with it, and a more visceral sense of something he tentatively labels as pity. it is interesting to note that he is not hysterical, more so melancholic. that is a divergence from how his breakdowns often appear. “i worship hope like i worship you. but this horrible  _ despair,  _ it’s consuming me. i’ve done my best to fight it, to be better for you, but i am truly useless.” he laughs sickly to himself. “i’m sorry.”

it is… unfortunate, to see servant like this. it is not surprising. but it is unfortunate. were he an emotional creation, he would perhaps feel empathy and sadness on his account. trauma, however, is not a calculated matter. it extends beyond the qualitative impact of chemicals and past events, resulting in symptoms that are hard for him to connect with but easy to interpret. regardless, he would prefer if servant was more at ease. perhaps he can attempt to remedy his panic with physical touch-- something servant… seems to respond well to. 

hm.

“it is fine. sit beside me.” komaeda moves swiftly, rising from the floor to sit beside kamukura, obeying his order immediately. there’s a pause, a lingering feeling in the air--  _ hm. he is cold.  _ physical touch appears to be the best course of action, then. he mentions the first observation aloud to servant, continuing to say, “would you like warmth?”

“do i deserve it?” 

it isn’t a tease or manipulation. there’s a shift in his tone-- he is genuinely asking. how interesting. 

(not quite, in fact, because kamukura predicted it. still, it is… unsettling, despite how frequently servant speaks of his own perceived worthlessness, to hear him ask this in such a flat tone. perhaps this unease can be explored later. for now, he will make calming the other his priority.)

“hm.”

kamukura secures him in a side embrace, allowing servant to lean against his chest. for a moment, he is stiff-- they both are. however, the servant eventually melts against his suit and lightly patterned tie, his face crumbling into something resemblant of vulnerability. kamukura wonders what drives someone like him to be vulnerable with someone as cold as the other. cold, mechanical, stiff-- and yet, servant clings to him. another peculiarity.

his eyes are bleary, but he does not cry. he does choose to whisper feverishly under his breath, a litany of apologies and compliments that are less courtesy and more worship. he remains there for an unsurprising length of time, untensing as kamukura rubs a circle against his bony hip. it isn’t an action of affection (at least, not primarily) when he suddenly cups servant’s neck and scans his face, rather to see how he is managing physically. it is evident that he is not.

“you have not slept,” he states bluntly. he knows he is correct.

“ah- nightmares.” he explains. kamukura could have determined this on his own, considering how many nights they have spent together and how many screams he has heard, but the admission is useful regardless. 

kamukura adjusts himself, leaning against the headboard. it is uncomfortable, but he has experienced worse. servant is still resting atop his chest, and he does not appear  _ calm,  _ necessarily, but he has withdrawn from the flashback and memories that have hurt him. this, or he has repressed them, which may be observed later and more competently handled at that time. he deduces now would be an acceptable time to command, “sleep.”

“ahah, i don’t want to be a hindrance.” 

“you are significantly more of a hindrance when you lack sleep.” he does not mention the fact that servant is not much of a hindrance overall. it is a difficult conclusion to unravel. it would lead to an irritating debate, as well. “i will be as bored here as i would be in any other situation. sleep.”

servant hesitates for a rather long period of time before he finally mutters, “if that is what you want.” he nestles against his torso, where his heartbeat is, and sighs softly, his face blank and disarming compared to the typical smile he often bears. when kamukura runs his hand through his hair, servant relaxes more, and a continued repetition of this process results in him gradually being lulled to sleep. before he is too tired to comprehend or form speech, he whispers, “i’m sorry, sir.” a useless apology.

kamukura is not often the type to freely grant affection. however, for the sake of pacifying servant, he presses a kiss to his temple and says in a clinically empty voice, “you are welcome. rest, now.” servant stiffens at the contact but does not move, and his subtly strangled breaths are eventually replaced with sleep ridden snuffles. kamukura does not move, watching him carefully for a moment and continuing to stroke his hair soothingly. eventually, he tires at the movement, but he does not stop. instead, he decides to sleep.

the most human, wretched, visceral part of him hopes that they will be safe in sleep.

(the most logical, cold, distant part of him knows that this is too much to hope for.)

**Author's Note:**

> so. hi.
> 
> i guess this is a new series now. i, like, have started listening to a lot of hozier recently (like, a lot), and a lot of the songs reminded me of kamukoma. so... i made a series for it! there should be ten fics total, no idea when all of them will come out. 
> 
> uh. yeah i don't know i hope this isn't, like, horrible. 
> 
> sorry i haven't been posting a lot lol.
> 
> bye.


End file.
